


Eliminate the Negative

by Book7BrokeMyBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Professors, M/M, Masturbation, Pornography, Snarry-A-Thon Challenge, Teacher!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book7BrokeMyBrain/pseuds/Book7BrokeMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Snarry-A-Thon 2012  Prompt #258 - Teenage/adult Harry finds an old Muggle porn magazine/video. Severus is in it; #5 - Professor Potter confiscates an old Muggle porn magazine. Headmaster Snape is in it; #74 - After a Hogwarts staff game of "Never Have I Ever" in which Snape admits to doing nothing mentioned, Professor Potter decides Snape hasn't experienced enough in life.<br/>Summary: Young Professor Potter confiscates an old porn magazine and finds Headmaster Snape in it. When seeing Snape as a vulnerable and sexual person triggers Harry's latent attraction, what will come if it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eliminate the Negative

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Originally begun for the "Back to Hogwarts Fest" at snape_potter in 2010. Beta'd by asnowyowl. Thank you!

 

  
**Chapter 1**

Harry enjoyed the vaguely naughty feeling of roaming the Hogwarts corridors late at night, made legitimate, and therefore less naughty, by his master's robes. More's the pity. Still, he got to play "seeker" again to the students' "hiders," and enjoyed being the hound instead of the fox for once. He rarely used the Marauder's Map, thinking it poor sportsmanship, unless he was feeling randy and wanted specifically to find the gay boys. He only had to look for the telltale overlapping dots on the parchment.

The pairs of boys almost always fell to pieces in fear, more so than the girls or straight couples, especially when Harry borrowed a page from Snape's book on intimidating robe-swirling technique.

He pitied them. He'd never been caught out himself, but he could imagine what a horrible feeling that would be, if he'd ever had anyone to be caught with.

He envied them. Harry envied those boys who figured out what they wanted early on and achieved it. Harry's adolescence was hardly his own, but his early adulthood was looking better.

Harry took a final look at the two dots ensconced in a round niche at the foot of a spiral stair, and silently folded and tucked his precious Map up his snug sleeve. Keeping his wand barely lit, he approached the stone archway to the hidden space, listening.

He heard whispers, low moans, but no kissing, no rustling of cloth as he would if the boys were snogging, no wet sounds of anything else. And their wand lights seemed to be moving. Curious. If a couple was snogging, their lit wands were generally propped up in place for illumination.

“What's going on here?” Harry demanded, swooping around the wall. The seventh years gasped and bolted to their feet, dropping papers to the ground.

“Nothing, Professor Potter!”

“Nothing!”

“Rivington, Hadley, get back to your dorms! Five points each from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!” One bent to collect his dropped things. “Leave that. It's mine now. Go!”

The boys looked at each other, then the magazines on the floor, then each other, then Harry's stern expression and ran. Harry stepped back and watched until they turned the corner toward the central corridor, then collected the magazines.

Muscle mag. Fashion mag. Gay porn. Jackpot.

 

 

Harry walked eagerly back to his rooms in the north tower. He was an adult and perfectly able to procure his own porn, but confiscated contraband was always sweeter. Also, one could only receive so many brown-paper-wrapped periodicals at breakfast in the Great Hall before eyebrows started rising. Additionally, the boys tended to have old editions of magazines stolen from uncles and older brothers that you just couldn't find anymore. Harry found the hirsute men from the seventies to be extremely sexy. He liked the long-haired hippies who looked like they were up for anything. In Harry's fantasies, they always were.

He was barely through the door when he began unbuttoning his snug robes, rolled materials under his arm. He had overthrown denims and trainers for boots and fitted wizard robes when he started Hogwarts a year ago. He needed to divorce himself from all things childish if he was to teach children not much younger than himself. When he gave it some thought and did some math, he realized he wasn't much older than Snape was when he started teaching. The best way to look older and be taken seriously, without resorting to terrorizing the children, was to dress like a proper wizard. Since then, he wore nothing but classic robes, fitted through the ribs, then flowing to the floor, with only a linen under-tunic and boots beneath. He found he liked that healthy breeze 'round his privates, like some older wizards did. After a life with the prudish Dursleys, it felt thrilling all the time.

Harry peeled out of his clothes, set the Map and the contraband on the side table while he cracked open a butterbeer, then spread himself out on the couch for a lovely evening of porn and wanking.

He warmed up with men's fashion, followed by men's muscles and another drink, then opened the porn rag for the main event.

It was merely a Muggle publication, unfortunately. It was black and white on cheap pulp, lovely and gritty. It felt like it would fall apart from the sweaty palms of the first man to hold it, but it had held up well from the late seventies, Harry reckoned. No hippies in it, more like junkies. Skinny boys, punks in leather trousers, hair spiked and short, or straight and stringy, piercings filled with steel bars and safety pins. The more strung-out and skeletal they were, the bigger the bulges in their pants seemed by comparison. It made Harry's mouth water to imagine unzipping, peeling down, pulling out, tasting. The smell would be intense. Filthy, unwashed boys, rent-boys maybe, disgusting but wanting Harry. Wanting his mouth, offering their holes.

Harry's hand moved to his groin and stroked, his prick already jumping and rolling in his lap.

He turned to the inevitable center spread and moaned softly in appreciation. In a stark, whitewashed brick room, yet another skinny teen stood with his face to the wall, leaning on his hands, head hanging. The pictorial began with him in torn tee-shirt and leather pants, but piece by piece the clothing disappeared, photo after grainy photo, revealing long limbs, ribs, jutting shoulder blades, lightly muscled stomach, a lean arse that hollowed as it clenched, well-muscled thighs and calves, but never the face. Harry longed to put the face on this boy, but it was cropped out or hidden behind dirty, lank hair.

He turned the page to find the money shots. The youth gripped himself firmly, bunching his foreskin, hiding the head, still leaning on the brick with a braced arm, the chiaroscuro lighting eliminating the grays. He looked like a line drawing, but he looked vibrant and he was wanting, aching. Harry ached with him.

Harry's hand squeezed, stroked lightly and quickly as he panted and perspired with the flush rising up his chest and face.

He came as the man came in the next photo. Almost like a drunken bloke having a slash in an alley, the skinny punk braced his forearm on the wall so he could cup his own forehead in his palm as his knees gave out, come splattering on the brick.

In the last, the boy's head tipped back in ecstasy and Harry could make out a sharp cheekbone and the tip of his nose. And the Mark on his forearm.

* * * * *

  
A couple of years of solitary travel and reflection had given Harry some badly needed perspective and a chance to discover his center, a quiet spot into which he retreated over the next few days, every time he thought about the skinny boy who had become Severus Snape. Questions, judgments, scenarios, guilt swirled through his head.

Seeing Snape daily at meals was a trial. Harry had given the man much thought since the war, and his feelings toward him now were ambivalent, at best. Add in a sexual component and his confusion cubed.

The Headmaster had retaken his mantle at McGonagall's insistence and the governors' reluctant approval. He sat uneasily in the throne left vacant by Dumbledore, and Harry could understand why Professor McGonagall relinquished it so easily, watching the reclusive man dealing with unending paperwork and politics. Dumbledore had attacked his work with good humor and unflagging energy. If anything, Snape had become colder, more tightly wound after the war, less human with fewer visible chinks in his armor than he ever had before. If Harry had grown, Snape had withered.

 

 

Harry sat next to the Deputy Head at breakfast.

“Morning, Professor,” he said cheerily.

“Harry, I've told you time and again you may call me Minerva.”

“Yeah, that's not going to happen any time soon.” He smiled sheepishly and poured a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Mister Potter,” Minerva teased, “you are no longer a student. You are our equal. You asked me once what you must do so your students don't eat you alive? Short of aging ten years overnight, you can start by acting like a member of the staff. We all like you, you know, and respect you.”

There was a huff from Minerva's other elbow. She and Harry turned to see the Headmaster's pursed mouth sneering as he pushed egg onto a bit of toast.

“Don't be a tit, Severus. Harry is a perfectly pleasant colleague. We've had to work with worse.” Harry heard her mumble something about Gilderoy's perfume overwhelming the scent of her morning tea.

Harry smiled but kept his eyes to his plate.

* * * * *

  
“Hagrid, what was it like for the first Order members after they left Hogwarts? Did they have money or jobs? Did they live together somewhere?”

Hagrid leaned back in his creaking chair, nibbling on a gigantic rock cake. “Hmm. Well, it depended, ya see. Yer dad had money to keep himself. James wasn't stingy with it, he kept a flat, an' Sirius and Remus lived with him, an' anyone else who needed a bed was welcome. Not much, but it was somethin'. We were all rather preoccupied back then, you can imagine. That Pettigrew wasn't around much.”

“The Death Eaters. Like Pettigrew. Do we know how they lived? What they had to do? Did Voldemort keep them all together?”

“Voldemort did nuthin' for his followers, far as I know. He branded 'em, then left 'em to mingle with society. They were his, but he weren't exactly the maternal type, him.”

“So they had to fend for themselves?”

“That and do his bidding. Woe to the Death Eater who didn't complete his tasks for Lord Voldemort, from what I heard.”

Harry nodded and gazed into his teacup. “So, no worries for people like the Malfoys.”

“No. 'Course not. It was folks like Remus, bless him, who mostly suffered the worst, tryin' to help the cause, but not havin' work.”

“And Snape?” Harry looked up nervously at the half-giant. “He was poor, wasn't he? I mean, I know he was. And I can't imagine his parents... actually, I can't see him ever going home after leaving school. Kind of like me. Except without my vaults of gold.”

Hagrid looked at Harry appraisingly. “Exactly. By the time Dumbledore hired him on, he looked like death. Took him a year of regular meals before he looked right.”

Harry opened his mouth, then snapped it shut with a sigh. He nodded, and drained the rest of his tea.

 

 

 **Chapter 2**

Bonfire Night, and the castle's denizens celebrated around the fires in the crisp November air, eating baked potatoes and drinking soup, playing with fireworks ordered from George at the Wheezes. It seemed all the frivolities during the school year were organized by McGonagall; the Headmaster didn't have a knack for morale like Dumbledore'd had. Which is how the staff found themselves assembling in the staff room after the students' curfew, drinks in hand, getting ready to continue the night's festivities and play Never Have I Ever.

Harry made himself scarce and headed for an armchair near the fire across the room from the circle of players. He found the Headmaster had beaten him to it. A pair of dark eyes assessed him from over the evening edition. “Potter.”

“Professor.” Harry gulped, chose the opposite chair and tried to settle down, fighting the urge to bolt. “No party games for you. I'm with you there.” Snape's eyes rose again. “I mean, I like these people, but I'm not ready to outright tell them the most personal parts of my life. Who needs to know if I've been in a threesome or not?” Harry scoffed and picked up a magazine.

The game began, and they listened while they read. Titters and guffaws followed most questions. Harry watched Snape as each statement was made. 'Never have I ever... been out of Great Britain.' 'Never have I ever ridden a horse.' 'Never have I ever... fudged a student's grade one way or the other.' Snape seemed to be listening intently. Harry wasn't sure if the Slytherin was still spying for his own edification or if he longed to play. Harry decided the latter (while never discounting the former) as Snape seemed interested at “Never have I ever kissed a person of the same sex.” He twisted his head enough to see who was answering in the affirmative, then snapped it back when he realized Harry was looking at him.

Snape scowled furiously, flustered. “I – I was only – I need to know --”

Harry leaned forward and whispered, “I have. Kissed a man.” Fortune favors the brave. “It was lovely. _And_ I've been in a threesome. That was lovelier.” He stood, laying the magazine on the table, leaning down near Snape's ear. “If you haven't had the chance in life to experience wonderful things like that, I'd be glad to show you.” He walked around the back of Snape's chair and whispered in the other ear, “You deserve pleasure after all you've done for us. For me. You deserve it regardless. I'd be happy to share. Just ask me to dinner.” He laid his hand on Snape's shoulder and squeezed gently. The man's eyes were hard, but his mouth had fallen open. Harry left him there and didn't turn back.

 

 

Back in his room, Harry stood in front of his ersatz shrine. A shelf held the photo of his parents, the Marauder's Map, the Prince's _Advanced Potion Making_ , a glistening vial of memories, and the magazine. His cloak hung from a peg underneath. He stroked the ephemeral fabric with the back of his fingers, imagining it to be the Headmaster's cheek.

Later, he brought himself off thinking of Snape's slack mouth.

* * * * *

  
“So, read chapters fifteen and sixteen for Tuesday. Don't forget, your end-of-term essays on Third-Order Dark Curses are due then, as well. Dismissed.” Harry set to putting away the seventh-year materials as the chattering students shuffled out of the room, when he felt someone approach his desk. With a quick glance up, he continued shuffling papers. “What can I do for you, Hadley?”

The boy was bold. “I'd like my magazines back. The ones you took that night. Sir.”

Harry drew up to his full height, such as it was, and rested his fingertips on the desk. “I can't believe you have the nerve to come and ask me for that. You know materials like those are forbidden.”

“But they were _mine_. I bought them with my own money. I want them back.”

Harry crossed his arms and stared him down.

“At least give me back the two if not, you know, the _other...._ ”

Harry stared harder. “And where did you get that 'other'?”

“Some creepy shop in London. I braved buying it, I should get to keep it. I didn't even get a good look at it yet! It's not fair!”

“You didn't? That was the first time you saw it?”

The boy blushed slightly. “I flipped through it, just to see if it was worth getting. That's all. Me and Rivington were going to break it in that night. You know.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Rivington and I,” Harry corrected, and sighed. “Wait here.” Harry spun on his heel and trotted up the curved stair to his office above the classroom. He unlocked a deep drawer in his desk and rummaged through decades of confiscated materials collected by a dozen DADA professors until he found the magazines. When he stood, he was startled to find Hadley in the doorway. Frowning, Harry said, “I told you to wait downstairs. Here. These are harmless enough.” He stuck out his hand with the fashion and muscle magazines in it.

“Where's the other? Sir?”

“You're heading the right way for a detention, Mr. Hadley, if you don't check your tone. Consider yourself lucky to get anything back at all. Now go.”

“Yessir,” he grumbled, as he made his way out of the office.

* * * * *

  
“Potter!” Snape called from the side door of the Great Hall. “A word.”

Harry stopped and turned, watching the Headmaster stalk up the corridor. “Yes, sir? Something wrong?”

He came to a halt and pulled his robes into place. “Professor Sprout informs me that she's had a complaint from one of her House that you treated him unfairly. That you stole his property and won't give it back. What is this nonsense, and why am I being bothered? Couldn't you work this out between professors?”

“Professor Sprout could have come to me.”

“As it happens, she mentioned it over lunch just now.” Snape crowded Harry against the wall. “Get it sorted.” He hovered a moment too long before pulling away and leaving.

“Was this Hadley, by any chance?”

Snape stopped and turned back. “Yes.”

Harry closed the distance between them. “What's your feeling about him? Him and Rivington? You've taught them already. Are they trouble?”

“Rivington is a quiet Ravenclaw. Hadley has always been a handful, for a Hufflepuff.”

“Let me guess, they were worse after they hit puberty?”

“And discovered girls, yes,” the Head confirmed.

“Yeah, well I can tell you they didn't discover girls, anyway. More like discovered each other. And trouble.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed. That's why Hadley's so narked at me. I confiscated his porn.” Harry blushed horribly as he suddenly connected their discussion with the object of fascination sitting on his shelf.

“Was it very good porn, then?” Snape asked archly, enjoying Harry's discomfiture. “Never mind,” he dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “I really don't care to know.”

“I'm still waiting for that dinner invitation,” Harry snapped after the man's back. A scornful glance was all the answer he got.

* * * * *

  
Harry knocked on the heavy wooden door to the Headmaster's office.

“Enter,” Snape called from behind his desk. “Potter. You're here to use the Pensieve, yes?”

“Yes.” Harry stood next to a plush armchair and stared longingly at the steaming tea service.

Snape laid down his quill with a roll of his eyes. “Stop with the hang-dog looks Potter. Sit. Tea?”

“Yes, thanks.” Harry dropped into the chair, accepting the cup of black tea.

Snape slid the tray across the desk. “You can fix it to your liking yourself. I'll not play mother all afternoon like Albus.”

“No lemon sherbets, then?” Harry smirked.

“ _Don't...._ ”

“Sorry.”

“In fact,” Snape answered testily, rising, “why don't you bring your tea into the other room now.”

“Niceties over with,” Harry mumbled, rose and followed Snape into the next room. He placed his saucer on a side table as Snape pressed the hidden panel that released the Pensieve.

“I'm sure you remember how to use it. You were a self-starter in that regard, if memory serves.” He closed the lancet door harder than necessary as he exited.

 

 

A while later, Harry fished the ethereal filaments of silvery memories out of the Pensive with his wand, letting them slide, one by one, into the cut crystal phial he'd bought years ago to hold them. He fitted the stopper in the neck, and held them to his heart for a moment before venturing back out into the office.

The door swung silently to reveal Snape with his nose almost to the parchment on which his quill scratched, looking so like that boy taking his O.W.L.s. Harry's heart lurched again, as it had been doing so often lately, as Snape lifted a hard face to Harry.

“If you are finished, please leave. I have work to do.”

Harry swallowed and stepped to the side of the desk. “Actually, I'm not finished. And I think whatever that is can wait a few minutes.” Harry rushed to continue before Snape could argue. “It's the winter hols, Professor. It'll keep five minutes.

“Um, as a token of the season, I wanted to return these to you.” He opened his palm and let the phial glitter in the torch light. “I've treasured them. I just wanted to watch them once more before I returned them. I can't tell you how much they meant to me, but... it's time you had them back. Here. Happy Christmas.” He reached out his open hand.

Snape laid down his quill. He took in Harry's eyes sparkling with welling tears and gratitude and apparently thought better of refusing the gift. After a moment's hesitation, he gingerly lifted the vessel from Harry's palm. “Thank you,” he managed, and slipped the gift into his robes. “I'd wondered once or twice what had become of those. I'm sorry you had to see them.”

“I'm not.”

“Well, I am. As I was dying when I did it, I didn't think I would mind for much longer. Do you think I relished sharing my private moments with you, with anyone?”

“No. You did what you had to do.”

“Of course I did. It's what I've always done. Now go. I'm terribly busy.”

Harry sidled toward the door. “What was it like? The first war?”

“It was war, Potter. It was horrific.” He snatched up his quill again and jabbed it in the inkwell.

Harry took the hint. He left with a nod of understanding. “Happy Christmas.”

* * * * *

  
On Christmas Eve, at the gathering for the several staff members who remained in the castle, Harry couldn't get within ten feet of the Head. Harry would approach and Snape would suddenly be on the opposite side of the room.

This... was beyond Harry's ken. In his travels, Harry had always been able to pull any man he desired. Not that he was a slut about it, just when he felt the need... it was always available. That did not prepare him for this situation, nor provide him with any training in the subtle art of seduction. Blundering Gryffindor overtures were not going to cut it with Severus Snape.

He settled for observing as he chatted with the others. Snape had outfitted himself with new sets of robes befitting his station as Headmaster, and Harry enjoyed this rare glimpse at the dress ones. Velvety midnight blue with pewter filigree trim made him look less sallow, and the cut showed off his long, lean frame, largely unchanged since he'd taken those photos more than twenty years before. Harry reassured himself it was a natural, human thing to search for the telltale bulge of the man's groin. Everyone did that. There were studies about it.

The floating bunches of mistletoe that were charmed to hover over random revelers in the Hall never seemed to approach Snape. When it occurred to Harry that Snape had a repellent charm cast over himself, he canceled it with a silent _Finite Incantatum_ and a secret smile. After that, no fewer than three hapless clusters went skidding across the room, singed and smoking, much to the amusement of Flitwick and Hagrid, who began taking side bets on how long it would be before Snape had set all the greenery on fire, Christmas tree included.

Harry's gaze followed Snape as he excused himself early and swept from the Hall, cloak over his arm. With a deep breath, Harry turned back to his colleagues and committed to having a pleasant evening.

 

 

Christmas dinner was much the same as Harry remembered from his schooldays. A single long table was set before the tree in the Great Hall. As in the previous year, Dumbledore's absence was felt again as it fell to Harry, primarily, to make the few students comfortable eating with the formidable professors. The two boys and one girl sat up the far end of the table around Harry, far from the Headmaster and McGonagall. He pulled crackers with them and wore the paper hat shaped like a snitch, traded riddles, and enjoyed himself immensely.

The goose eaten and pudding done, Snape excused himself and left the Hall without so much as a Fa La La. The students relaxed as the pall of his presence evaporated, but Harry felt as if his insides were tugged out of the room with the Headmaster.

“Why should I even care?” Harry mumbled to himself, huffing as he crossed his arms. “Not as if he even likes me.”

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder. “Cheer up, Harry.”

“Hagrid,” Harry said with a forced smile.

“Now, if someone were wantin' ta feel better about things, all they'd have ta do is follow the trail along the Black Lake. Yep. That's all he'd have ta do.”

Harry craned his neck to look Hagrid in the face. “Rubeus Hagrid, the last time I took your mysterious advice, Ron and I almost became a midnight snack for Aragog's family. No thank you.”

Hagrid chuckled and patted his shoulder heavily. “Ha! Yep, good times. Very excitin' wasn't it? Ahhhh... but truly, you'd do well to start trampin' along the lake path. Does a body good, yessir. Clears the mind, it does, and warms the heart. Especially after dinnertime.”

“Give me frostbite and chilblains, more like. It's the middle of winter for heaven's sake.”

“Nevertheless, Harry, mark my words and start stretching yer legs. You'll see.” He moved on to chat with the students as Harry tucked the weird conversation away for later contemplation.

* * * * *

  
It was too cold to fly, but Harry was restless. The students were returning in a day or two and he was looking forward to diving into the curriculum as a great distraction. Until then, he barely knew what to do with himself. After supper, Harry grabbed his heaviest cloak, flipped the hood upon his head and headed out into bitter night air.

He headed toward the lake, toward the well-worn path around its edge. The moon was up, not quite full, making walking possible. The early evening sounds were soothing and distracting; Hagrid was right. He would know about the lake and the forest and its creatures, wouldn't he? Harry could hear the thestral herd in the distance, and see the giant squid slithering beneath the thin film of ice as he tramped along the shore. He negotiated the standing stones along the way, clambering up and down the slight knolls as he worked up a sweat under his cloak. The mere act of walking and not tripping in the dark was like a meditation, and soon all his troubles were far away.

And soon, so was Harry. He found himself at the head of the lake, far from the castle. He sat down tailor-style on a flat rock, cocooned in his thick cloak. He marveled at the lights of the castle, the smeared reflections on the ice. He'd never really got over his amazement at the existence of the wizarding world, or his gratitude for teaching at Hogwarts. As difficult as the job could be, it was home. He was home.

He hugged his knees to his chest and dozed, the forest at his back.

 

 

He woke with a start, freezing cold, stiff and shivering. The moon hadn't moved far across the sky; he hadn't slept long. Suddenly, he heard crunching footsteps, what must have woken him in the first place.

“Are you a wizard or not?” came softly reproving from the path, as Harry was enveloped in gorgeous heat. Snape tucked his wand back inside his cloak.

“I always forget,” Harry said with a residual shudder as he stretched his legs and stood. “I didn't grow up knowing I was a wizard like you did.” He chafed his arms. “Thanks. That feels good.”

“I can't let my professors freeze to death, not with term starting soon. And the paperwork would be horrendous.”

Harry looked around. “I need a pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Wish I had my broom.”

“Why? Would you urinate in mid-air?”

“No!” protested Harry. “It's just so far to walk, and I don't like to go outside.”

“Again, I ask you,” Snape said as he sidled up to Harry, slipping an arm around his waist, “are you a wizard or not?”

They silently wrenched through space, landing at the edge of the Forest, just outside the boundary of the wards. Harry shook himself.

“Right. Just so you know, never unexpectedly Apparate a man with a full bladder. I think I may have wet myself.”

Snape snorted once, then schooled his face back to neutral as he readjusted his fingers about Harry's waist. “Will you please stop talking about bladders?”

“Why were you by the lake?” Harry tipped his face up to look Snape in the eye.

“I often walk after dinner. Helps to clear my mind so I can deal with the next day full of dunderheads.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed. “Do you.”

They stood like that for only a moment more before Snape sighed and released Harry, stepping away. “We ought to get you back to the castle. Although,” he added brusquely as his strides ate up ground, “I can't believe you spent all that time camping and never once urinated out of doors.”

“We had indoor plumbing! God, I love magic.” They trudged toward a courtyard. “Never said I _didn't_ , mind you, just that I don't like to. Aunt Petunia was a real stickler for stuff like that.”

“Hmm.” Snape answered as their boots rang on the cold stones.

 

 

 **Chapter 3**

He heard voices in the blackness. He knew he recognized them, but he couldn't place a name on them. He tried awfully hard, but felt very tired, and needed to sleep....

 

 

He heard a man's voice. He saw a picture in his mind's eye of long, ginger hair and a fang earring. He knew this person, he was sure of it.

“So far, all we've been able to determine is that there were two Dark curses cast. I've checked the grimoires but haven't been able to tease the curses apart enough to diagnose.”

“We know the blending of these two curses managed to enhance each other.” The higher register of voice made him picture a tall blond. The almost petulant tone was nearly enough to bring a name to mind. It was maddening. “We're doing the best we can, Professor, but we do have our own workload to consider.”

“Of course you do. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, I appreciate your assistance and your discretion. I'm sure Gringotts are missing their best team of curse breakers.” Now _that_ voice Harry felt he ought to know.... Oh! He'd said the names.... What were they again?

Harry felt terribly sleepy.

 

 

He felt cool fingers on his wrist, on his eyes. He realized he must be in the Infirmary, based on the familiar disinfectant tang of ozone in the air. He still couldn't move, still couldn't think, was so very tired....

 

 

“Severus,” she whispered, “are you certain? He's unconscious!”

“I'm certain. I've had to do this before, in the second war.”

“But it must be dangerous, even painful.” Harry could practically hear the older woman wringing her hands.

“Actually, it's easier when the target isn't resisting. I can slip in and look about undisturbed.”

“But it's such an invasion!”

“Poppy, please. If he never wakes, he'll never know, but perhaps we'll have the culprit. The mental stimulation might make him fight back. If he's in there, perhaps he will rise to the surface once more.”

“Poppy, stand aside,” said a terse Scottish woman, and Harry felt them move away even as he felt the cool fingers over his eyelids again.

“ _Legilimens...._ ”

* * * * *

  
Snape threw himself back as if struck, stumbling away from Potter's bedside.

“Bastards!” His fist rose to his mouth, face white as death.

“Severus! What's happened?”

“Did you see who did it?” Poppy clutched at her apron.

“In his office. The desk. Hadley and Rivington. They attacked him simultaneously.”

“Why? Why on earth...?”

“I must go.” Snape lurched out the doors and Merlin help the boys when he found them.

* * * * *

  
“ _Legilimens...._ ”

He felt the invasion again, wanted to writhe to shake the man's hold loose, buck him off, make him get out of his mind, but he couldn't move.

 _There was a noise in his office. Harry padded out of his rooms in his bare feet to investigate. Two figures were whispering, arguing, sorting through the contents of the desk drawer._

 _“He was digging through here, I swear.”_

 _“Just leave it. He's burned it or something. Let's go.”_

 _“What's tha?”_

 _The shocked boys whipped around, wands leveled, scared, as Harry exclaimed, “What in buggering hell are you doing in my office?!”_

 _It was all red and green wandlight after that, and then blackness..._

 __

_“Mmmm... Severus. Oh,” Harry moaned softly as his slick hand jiggled over the head of his cock. Laid back on his bed, a magazine propped up on a pillow, Harry tweaked a nipple, then trailed his hand to touch a photo with his palm as he gasped and arched and came over his hand...._

 __

__

_Breakfast in the Hall when Harry sat at the corner so he could stare at Snape's profile. Many such breakfasts, in fact...._

 __

__

_Hadley confronting Harry, demanding the return of his property...._

 __

__

_Harry clipping his toenails...._

 __

__

_Harry putting away his laundry...._

 

 

“Gah.” Severus sat up. “I've gotten into the morass of mundane memories again. I'll have to try afresh later.” He rubbed his eyes as Poppy put a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you feel him in there at all, Severus? Is he fighting?”

“He's there.”

“There's that, at least. We'll get him back, Severus. We will.”

Snape hung his head in exhaustion, his thumb rubbing across the back of Harry's hand cupped under his own. “I have more questions for those two. I must go.”

“Are they still quite well, _Headmaster?_ ” Poppy asked pointedly. “As outrageous as their crime is, I am still charged with the well-being of the students. If you won't tell me where they are being held...?”

Snape stood. “They are somewhere safe within the walls of the school. They are fed. They are clothed. I can only tell you it's a bit damp and cold. No one can find the chamber except myself, Filch, and the house-elves. And if they don't start talking soon, I will be forced to use means of discipline not seen here since Phineus Nigellus's time that would have Albus spinning in his tomb.” _And Filch coming in his pants._

“Please, for your sake and the sake of your tenure, don't do anything permanent in your anger. We know what spells were used, yes?”

“Yes.” Snape stared down at Harry's peaceful face. “When we turned up their wands, it was easy enough to perform _Priori Incantatem._ Hermione Granger is working out the rest. I need to know other details. Their motive. What they were searching for.”

“Well, can't you just...” Poppy fluttered a hand, “use legilimency on them?”

“I could. And I will. Just, the sight of them tends to... upset me too much at the moment.”

Poppy smiled knowingly. “Imagine Severus Snape losing his temper.”

“It's been known to happen. I'll be back later.”

“Eat something!” Poppy scolded. Severus waved off her suggestion with all the disdain it deserved.

* * * * *

  
 _Harry entered his rooms with an expectant hop to his step, hung up his master's robes, put the roll of magazines on the sofa and began to strip –_

No! Harry fought against the intrusion harder than ever. Severus could never see that magazine! He couldn't see that he had it, and what he did with it!

He felt his mind harden, coalesce, orient and swim toward consciousness like a bubble rushing to break the surface of the ocean.

“...no no no... _Protego_ ,” Harry mumbled, thrashing as Snape tried to maintain eye contact but failed as Harry pulled his head away from the fingers holding his lids open. “NO! _Protego!_ ” Harry's eyes flew open and he froze.

Snape flinched and ducked away from the burst of wandless magic. “Potter!” He seized Harry's shoulders and shook him softly, “Are you with us? Are you awake?”

“Harry?” Poppy rushed to the bedside. “He's back! Severus, you did it.” She whipped out her wand and began an intricate pattern of diagnostics over Harry's head and chest. “How did you manage it?”

Harry blinked in confusion. “He's a nosey parker. Poking his big nose where it doesn't belong. Christ, I'm tired,” he mumbled. He fell back on the pillows, unconscious.

* * * * *

  
“Look, Professor, I'm only saying that perhaps we should stop meddling in Harry's memories.” Hermione twisted her fingers, and looked down at Harry. “It could be harmful. It's been days. Maybe we should be focusing on a potion? Or a counter-curse?”

“We. And by that, you mean 'me'.” Snape tucked his fingers more tightly under his arms. “Miss Granger, you are not a stupid woman. You've been researching Potter's problem. You know the Obliviate Charm and the Morpheus Hex can be reversed individually--”

“-- but they've reacted synergistically, yes --”

“-- so therefore the standard counter-curses have proved ineffective.”

“Yes, but --”

“Creating a potion antidote is unlikely, especially on an immediate basis --”

“Yes, but --”

“Legilimency has been the only intervention to get any response from Potter at all. He's in there, Miss Granger. He fights me when I enter his mind, especially when I approach certain memories. I will continue to irritate him that way until he wakes or you come up with a better solution.”

Hermione sighed in defeat. “Are you going back in now?”

“Yes. I'd appreciate some privacy.”

Hermione sighed and straightened. “Certainly, Professor.” She picked up her purse and turned to go. “Ron has found out about Harry's attack, by the way. It won't be long before the Aurors get their hands on the case. I suggest you _irritate_ him out of his condition sooner than later. Good day.”

“You are hardly Potter's wife, Ms. Granger,” Snape clipped out. “You are a legal stranger to him. You have no say in his treatment.”

Hermione colored with quiet anger. “And you do? He's got no one but his friends. I'll be that for him. I'll look out for him, and God help you if you hurt him.” She turned and walked away.

* * * * *

  
“What's all this, then?” Ron Weasley stood in the doorway of the Infirmary, the antique gold color of his Auror robes doing nothing for the high coloring of his face and hair. “You had _my own brother_ lie to me about Harry? When were you going to call the MLE, Headmaster?”

“I wasn't.” Snape extracted himself gently from bedside, and turned to Ron. “This is a Hogwarts matter. And if your wife and brother kept information from you, that's not my problem.”

“It is now. I've begun an investigation. I demand the students involved be brought to me. Now.”

Snape stood between Ron and Harry's bed. “No.”

“They hexed the bloody Boy Who Lived! Their teacher! They aren't going to get away with a slap on the wrist from the Headmaster!”

Snape smiled coldly. “I am not Albus Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd be feeding them tea and lemon drops. Not I. I'm sure they'd rather go off with the Aurors, at this point.” Poppy looked down at the floor. “Those boys aren't leaving this school until I've brought Potter back and I have no further use for them.” Snape sat back down beside Harry. “Then they will be expelled, and you may do what you like with them.”

“Look, Harry--”

“--Is no one to you. He's under contract to the school, and that makes him my responsibility, seeing as he has no family.”

Ron spluttered until Hermione grasped his arm. “Let's step out, Ron. Good luck, Professor. Call us if Harry wakes up. We'll be nearby.” Hermione tugged her husband from the room.

Snape closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. And another. Then he began again.

* * * * *

  
“ _Legilimens._ ”

Snape was familiar with Harry's mind by now, what areas to feel for, where the important memories hid. He headed directly for that one particular night that Harry seemed to defend with all his might.

Harry fought. Snape teased out more detail, going further than before.

Suddenly, Harry sat up, shouting, and Snape jumped back in shock, white as a sheet.

Harry stared into Snape's face, fully awake, with a horrified expression. Snape stood, backed away, and rushed from the Infirmary as Poppy swept up to attend to her recovered patient.

* * * * *

  
Hours later, Harry, dosed with Pepper-Up, escaped from Madame Pomfrey and his friends, and made his way to the gargoyle guarding the stairs to the Headmaster's office. He had to explain.

He stood there, racking his brain for the password, until it dawned on him. “Dumbledore,” he said, and the statue moved away. He rode the stairs up to the inner door. After hesitating, he knocked firmly.

The heavy door swung open after a long moment. Harry walked through the office into the private quarters to find Severus filling trunks with stacks of shrunken books.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously. “You can't leave! This is your home, your job!”

Severus stopped his ceaseless motion. “Not for long.”

“Why not?” Harry rushed over and stilled Severus's wand hand. “What has changed? _Nothing._ ”

“Let go of my wrist.” Harry complied. “What has changed? Nothing, I suppose. The public always thought I was a depraved Death Eater. Now they will have proof.” He turned back to his task, packing even faster. “It's only a matter of time.”

“What? Why?”

Severus spun around and bent down to Harry's face. “You. You have it! I saw. _In. Here._ ” He poked Harry in the forehead with a bony fingertip. “You had it and kept that from me. How long have you been laughing behind my back? Have you shown it to all your friends? All my enemies? Hm? The Aurors are here! In this building right now! Investigating!” Harry's mouth hung open in shock. “ **How long before I am ruined? How long, Potter?** Before all that I've built for myself, from nothing, crumbles and I lose my position, and any respect I've garnered. Hm?”

“But--”

“HOW LONG before I lose my home, my security, my-- my colleagues to some stupid--”

“Nobody would care.”

Severus's eyes flared with fury. His voice lowered to a deadly quiet that Harry had learned to fear long ago. “Wizards are very much like Muggles in one respect, Potter. They can forgive murder and mayhem in the name of war. Kill people, they don't mind. Merlin, they write plays and books and make films glorifying, _fetishizing_ torture and death. But heaven forbid if someone has _sex_. And don't take a picture of it. And by all means, don't be homosexual when you do.” He stood straight. “That, they will never forgive. And never forget. Regardless of the circumstances.”

Harry stood by quietly, watching the man resume packing his life into boxes.

“When Remus was outed... he ran away, too. He didn't even try to keep his job.” Severus stopped, and turned around. “And you have a lot more to lose than he did. I can't imagine anyone abandoning this life without a fight.”

“Lupin almost ate students. He needed to leave. And he knew it.”

“But you haven't hurt anyone. You are a credit to this school, to the Headmastership. You can't go. You deserve to stay.”

“I've perverted students. Tainted them with that filth. When that comes out, I'm ruined. I won't give the Governors the satisfaction. I won't— oh Merlin— won't give _Lucius Malfoy_ that satisfaction.” The man was trembling. “Wizards aren't keen on redemption. The public are willing and eager to hate me for any reason.”

Harry walked up and slipped his arms around an unresisting Severus.

“Severus. Shhhh,” he urged, when he felt the man start to accept the gesture. “Nothing is ruined. Nothing is tainted. No one is aware of those pictures but me.” He pushed them apart slightly to look Severus in the eye. “I confiscated it before the boys saw it. I swear. I will always protect you as fiercely as you've done for me. You deserve that much. And honestly, this didn't take that much protecting.” He smiled lamely. “All I did was keep my mouth shut, and hide the magazine in my room.”

Severus backed up and sat against the back of the sofa. “That's not all you did with it.”

“Ah, no. That wasn't all. I'm sorry if that embarrasses you.”

Severus slumped, shaking his head. He sighed heavily.

Harry approached again, sliding his arms around the man's bony shoulders, feeling his body accepted into the vee of Severus's thighs. He whispered, “You were a starving kid. You did what you had to. Like you always do. I don't mind. I'm glad I saw it.” Harry pulled back and pressed his mouth to Severus's. “Do you have any idea how much I want you, Severus?”

Severus smoothed his thumb over the pink spot left by his fingertip on Harry's forehead, a small violence he regretted already. “I do.” He ran his fingers through Harry's fringe, then set Harry back to arm's length. Harry tried to push forward again, but Severus held him at bay. “Timing, Potter. You're running on Pepper-Up fumes at this point, and I'm....”

“Shaking like a leaf. All right.” Severus allowed Harry to wrap his arms around his neck and just hold him for a bit. “How about a drink and a snuggle on the couch to help you calm down?” Harry pressed his nose into the man's neck and inhaled. “You'd like it, I bet. No funny stuff, I promise.” He pulled back to gauge the man's expression.

“I ought to just go to bed. Alone.”

“Sit with me. I'll keep you company for a while. You've had a horrible shock.” Severus seemed half convinced. Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Sofa and a drink? Good. Come on.”

Harry pulled him around the couch to sit before he could change his mind.

 

 

Severus woke up in the middle of the night with Harry's head in his lap. He combed his fingers through the messy locks, feeling like he was taking awful liberties. He rested his hand over Harry's shoulder, smoothed his palm down the man's arm. Harry pressed deeper into his thigh with a sleepy sigh. Gingerly, he took the folded spectacles out of Harry's curled fingers, and put them on the side table.

Severus extracted himself, draped the man with a blanket and went to bed.

In the morning, he was disappointed to find Harry hadn't followed.

 

 

 **Chapter 4**

Harry left it up to Severus to take the next step. Weeks went by. His attackers were long gone, expelled and released to the authorities, Severus having rifled through their memories for any sign of his image, finding none.

The rhythm of the school year settled again into comforting monotony.

Early spring found Harry with a deep restlessness that no amount of gazing and hoping (and self-management of his youthful libido) could relieve. Severus Snape may have resigned himself to a life of celibacy, but Harry was not willing to settle for the same. Not with the object of his affections sharing the same roof.

Over breakfast one morning, sitting next to the man like a mere acquaintance, Harry realized he was never getting a dinner invitation from the Headmaster.

* * * * *

  
Severus dropped the scroll to his desk. He leaned back in the Headmaster's chair and considered the invitation to Potter's rooms for Saturday evening. A 'death and life' situation, he'd called it. Well.

* * * * *

  
Harry opened the door to a quizzical Severus.

“Death and life situation? A tad dramatic, even for you, Oh, Chosen One.” He walked past Harry and helped himself to one side of the sofa in front of the fire. Harry stood at the hearth.

“Perhaps.” Harry smiled softly. “Drink?” He gestured to a coffee service and a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Coffee.”

Harry prepared it just to the Headmaster's liking and handed it over. He made one for himself and sat on the other edge of the sofa, saucer on his knee, as if ready to jump up again.

“Why am I here, Potter?”

He sipped his coffee, swallowed with a click of his throat. “Out of curiosity, did you put those memories back in?”

“Yes. Eventually.”

“Why?”

Severus put his cup down on the side table and turned to face Harry. “Because they're mine. I don't like the feeling of missing information.”

Harry nodded. He put his saucer next to the service tray. “I wanted to perform a little ritual tonight. The 'death and life' thing.” He got up and went to the shelf. He brought the magazine back with him, holding it out. “Do you want to see it? Have you ever seen it?”

Severus looked at it rolled in Harry's hand and shook his head.

Harry sat and flipped through to the pertinent part, then slowly perused. “I can guess why you did this, and, really, I don't expect hear the story, although it would be an interesting one, I'm sure.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” His head tilted slightly to glimpse the pictures.

“No, of course not. None of my business, really. Thing is, I want you to burn it. Here. Now. In the fire.”

Severus snatched the magazine away and flung it backhanded into the flames. It caught immediately.

“That's great,” Harry said, “except I wanted to save a page or two to run tracing spells with. Maybe find any remaining copies hanging around the UK. Oh, well.” Severus looked surprised. “I've given this a lot of thought, you know. I didn't want to burn it at all. I admit that I love looking at you at that age. I mean, are there any pictures of you as a young man, anywhere? It's part of your past. Not a good part, but it's still you. I'm sorry to see them go, but I'm happy to see them burn if it helps you put it behind you.”

“It's impossible to put it behind me. It all happened. I'll never escape it.”

“I suppose not.” Harry sat down right next to Severus, and took his hand. “And now for the 'life' portion of the evening.” He kissed the back of the bony hand, and held it to his forehead. When he spoke, his lips tickled the back of Severus's wrist. “I wanted to play Never Have I Ever with you to get things started, but, to be honest, all the double or triple negatives in that game do my head in.” Harry laughed softly, and looked at the man. “So let me just say it plainly. Never have I ever met anyone like you. Not even close. You may not think much of yourself, but I think the world of you. And I'm going to kiss you. We are going to kiss until it turns to snogging, right here on my couch.” Harry shifted so he could pull Severus down to his level.

He tilted his head, and leaned in. It wasn't good. Severus didn't help at all. Flustered, Harry stood, hitched up his robes, straddled Severus's lap, leaned in again, pulled back and tore off his glasses, chucked them on the table, braced his hands against Severus's shoulders and kissed him.

It was a soft crush of lips. Harry felt Severus's hands drift up his hips to rest against his waist, and he smiled between them. Humming his approval, he slid forward, pressing closely as he kissed harder, encouraging the small movements Severus made to copy Harry.

Harry asked huskily, “Not much practice at this?”

Severus frowned slightly. “Is that a problem?” Harry felt him tense up beneath him, ready to bolt.

“No! No, no, no....” Harry reassured him with his mouth.

Kissing to the point of breathlessness, they began to slide sideways on the couch. When Severus let his hands wander under Harry's robes, stroking up the back of Harry's thighs to his bare bottom, suddenly all reluctance was gone. He grappled with Harry desperately, shifting and rolling as they kissed fervently on the small couch.

“Let's take this into my room,” Harry gasped. He helped Severus off the sofa, grasped his wrist and led him to the bedroom and the bed.

Severus took a breath, unbuttoned Harry's robes and helped him out of them. He was less eager to disrobe, but Harry persisted. They touched each other, stroking skin, standing by the bed until Harry urged Severus to sit as he fell to his knees.

“No. You come up here.” Severus swapped their places, laying Harry back in the bed, he crawled up between Harry's legs. He stroked Harry's thighs with a quiet, glittering gaze on Harry's reactions. “I want this,” he said, as he spread Harry's thighs and buried his nose in Harry's groin, mouthing his balls and the base of his cock, until he swallowed it down easily. Harry had never been so glad to be of average endowment until he felt his entire prick massaged by the man's tongue and lips.

He writhed, arching, the backs of his fists punching the pillows as Severus worked his cock with enthusiasm. He couldn't last long.

“Gonna come, gonna-- can't--” Harry gasped and arched up into Severus's mouth. Harry felt the bed shake and looked down to see the man taking himself in hand. Harry watched his face as he brought himself off silently, grimacing in ecstasy, coming on Harry's leg. Harry opened his arms, beckoning Severus up to the pillows. They collapsed together, coming down.

“I would have helped you with that, you know,” Harry said.

“I was too far gone. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, Severus.” Harry reached for his wand and cleaned them with a murmured spell. “That was brilliant for a first time. Next time....”

Severus hummed assent as he caught his breath. After a few minutes of blissful silence, he sat up.

“You're not leaving are you?”

“Generally, these things end with the invited party going back to their own rooms, do they not?”

“I suppose, but not you. Stay.” Harry grasped his arm and pulled him back into the bed. Severus let himself be led under the covers. “Sleep here.”

Harry was asleep almost immediately. Severus followed soon after, content with Harry half-draped across his body, forehead pressed into his shoulder.

 

 

Harry woke around midnight. In the dim light, he slicked himself, then wrapped a warm, lubed hand around Severus's half-hard cock as he slept, carefully stroking him fully erect. By the time Severus woke, Harry had climbed astride him and impaled himself, riding him slowly. They had sleepy sex in a drowsy haze that felt like a dream, Harry's hands on Severus's chest, Severus's hands on Harry's hips and bottom, urging him on. They found a rhythm in silence. Harry came first with both their hands on his cock as Severus bucked up from below. Harry made sure to watch his face as he climaxed, a grimace of pleasure, Harry positive he'd never tire of seeing this man in bliss.

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

Harry, in his denims and ringer-tee civvies, sat cross-legged on a bench in the small yard behind Number 12, laptop balanced on his knees. Hermione sat nearby, as they chatted in the early June afternoon.

“So the Ministry were very happy with my paper on the effect of those spells they cast on you. I'm sure it won't come to anything, it was a pretty rare combination and an accidental casting. I don't see criminals using it on purpose, or St. Mungo's having to deal with this again, but as an exercise it was rewarding.”

Harry looked up from the screen. “That's great Hermione, really. You never know. You might help someone some day, just by chronicling it.”

“That's what I thought.” She looked pleased. “And it seems to be reflecting well on Ron with the MLE, so that's nice. Even though he had little to do with it all. But, still.”

“Yeah. Terrific, Hermione. I really appreciate all the work you did.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled. “So, what're you up to? What's got you so engrossed?” She craned her head to catch a glimpse of the screen. Harry tilted the top down a bit.

“Nothing. Just a little hobby project.”

“Oh?”

“I'm trying to track down some periodicals through Ebay, clearing houses, and that. Nothing special.”

“Maybe I could help?”

“No, thanks. Really. Just some stupid back copies of magazines that wouldn't interest you,” he lied.

Hermione sat back, crestfallen at the loss of another research opportunity. “All right, then.”

Severus chose that moment to walk out the kitchen door, into the garden. “Oh. Hello.”

Harry beamed from his seat. “Severus! You're here.”

Severus looked at Hermione. “I apologize if I am interrupting. And is that a computer? In one of the most magical dwellings in London? How?”

“Well, it's not _in_ the dwelling, _per se_. I'm outside. I steal electricity for charging from next door, and WiFi from one of my neighbors who doesn't have the brains to secure their connection.” Harry shrugged. “This is what we fought for, isn't it? Muggle/wizard relations, or something?”

Hermione chuckled as she stood. “Or something.” She bent down and kissed Harry's cheek. “Don't get up. Bye, Harry.” She turned to Severus. “And I'm happy for your news, Professor. Congratulations.” She let herself out through the kitchen with a small wave. Severus favored her with a curt smile.

When he was sure she was gone, Severus strode over to Harry and leaned over with a hand on either side of Harry's shoulders, putting them face to face. He smiled softly. Harry closed the laptop and looked up. He cupped Severus's face and tilted in for a welcoming kiss.

“Hello, stranger. Got all your things?”

“Enough for the summer. What I might have forgotten I can get easily enough by Floo. I'm set.”

“Good.” Harry raised up into a few warm kisses, then pulled back. “Let me put this away, then I want to take you for a ride.”

“Is that so?” Severus yanked him into his arms and snogged him senseless.

 

 

Sated and sore, but not minding in the least, Harry sank boneless into his mattress, Severus still atop him. He made a long arm and reached his wand by the tips of his fingers. He cast softly, “ _Lavanda santorum._ ” A fresh tingle swept between them.

“That spell really is quite good,” Severus said, face squashed sideways against Harry's chest. He couldn't be arsed to lift his head to speak. “Very competent spellcrafting. Gets everything.”

“Found it on a gay wizard blog. Computers do have their uses.”

“Hmmph.”

Harry stroked Severus's sweaty hair. “Yeah.... As nice as this interlude was, when I said 'take you for a ride' earlier, I meant on the Tube. I was going to take you to a movie. Like a real date.”

“Hmmph. Sod the movie. I can't move.”

Harry smiled at the ceiling. “We have all summer, I suppose. I'll take you for a nice dinner later, when you have the strength to shower. How's that?”

“Sounds wunnerful.” Severus dropped off like a stone.

Harry mused for a while over all the places he'd take Severus, all the events and delights he'd show him. They had much more than a summer coming, he was positive. 

  
  


-The End-


End file.
